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choosing to leave

Just stepped outside into what apparently has been another gorgeous day.

Of course, I wouldnít really know, considering that Iím usually cooped up inside a steel and concrete box for ten hours a day.

So, rather than complain in vain, Iíve decided to take action and quit my job to become a bum. Or maybe a hobo. A clown in the traveling circus maybe?

Anyway, after my five-minute refill of fresh air and the subsequent landing back in reality, I went back inside.

On the way up I stopped by the local stationer in the building and thought Iíd throw away a couple of dollars, just in case my number is up and the Fates are looking favorably upon me today. Today, as I diligently earn my paycheck, sitting, tapping away in my prescript three-wall corporate cube.

$222 million dollars is a nice sum. A bum could do a lot of good with that kind of financial freedom.

Oh, lotto ticket please be that elusive fare out of here, take me away to that lackadaisical, laissez-faire, vagabondís life that I often dream of during my five minute escapes, those blessed little breaks that take me away from the fluorescent, grey-paneled, AC hum of this humdrum life I am sure I did not choose to lead.




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